


The first escape

by essilt



Series: Wanda / Vision [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:36:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essilt/pseuds/essilt
Summary: Wanda throws back her head. They are embarrassed, they meet their lips hurriedly: it's like a quick brushstroke on a new canvas, not a kiss, there are too many people here."Come," she whispers.This is their first time - the first escape.





	The first escape

**Author's Note:**

> Well, these two had TWO years for meeting secretely, so let's have a look! (And again, sorry for my english, it's not my native).

From the porthole window Ljubljana resembles of Novigrad: an old green city under the red roofs, in the ring of a gentle river. It's fastened to a bustling new one, multi-storey and vain, by the bridge threads. At another time, such a similarity would be painful. Now there is neither the time nor the desire to think about the pain.

Wanda leans back and covers her eyes. She's almost arrived.

"Are you wearing your seat belt?"

She raises the edges of the plaid silently, revealing the buttoned belt, then wraps herself again to the very nose. From the excitement, it is getting colder by the minute, and the teeth will start to pound in any moment.

Suddenly something will go wrong? Suddenly they misunderstood each other? Suddenly Vision will change his mind? Suddenly Stark intervenes? Suddenly Rogers intervenes? The new questions are more stupid than the other, they're crowding in her head like a crowd at the entrance to the bomb shelter; only people, like a herd, time by time were rushed by the hope for survival, and thoughts are rushed by fear... oh, how strong is it.

"Lift the chair back, please," reminds the stewardess. "We are going to land."  
"Yes, yes, sorry."

She is slightly shaken when the chassis touches the runway, and slightly pushes forward while the aircraft is braking. Still it's so quieter than in one of a comfortable, more like the starship of the fantastic films, military aircraft of "Stark Industries."

And this one is tiny, there are just four places in each row. No gangway, it serves as a folding door at the entrance. You can be reached on foot to the terminal from the runway - but still passengers are transfered to the bus. The terminal is tiny, too.

Wanda's legs are like hinges. Her hands are completely icy. She pushes a cap on her forehead, tightens the poncho. Under the clear and generous spring sun she trembls through.

She examines her fingernails nervously. She wanted to do it better, she painted its again on the plane, but, of course, she ripped its off while she was busy with the luggage...

_"Why Ljubljana?"  
"Why not?"_

There is no logic in this. Although there is no logic at all: Wanda is crazy about artificial intelligence in a superhuman vibranium body, they both belong to the formally opposing sides, and still they have the courage - or the recklessness - to negotiate a meeting and even come to it... she hopes so.

"And what is the most attractive in a man, you thought: a gun, a biceps, a dick? Thrice a haha. The brain! Then a dick. " Natasha's tact does not have a trace, but her understanding would be enough for a couple of planets, and Wanda swallows a terse remark about personal experience. Natasha is unlucky. Bruce is nowhere, while Wanda knows Vision's exact address.

Although luck does not add it. She does not see him in the arrivals hall and regrets that the plaid stayed on the plane. Okay, in a small wheeled suitcase, there's a sweater, a return flight in an hour, she even...

She is annoyed by a tenacious, inseparable alien gaze, as if she were a target. She'd get a bullet between her eyes. Or in the back of the head. Wherever she moves in the stream of people, who are striving for someone's embraces and kisses, the gaze does not leave her. Wanda assesses the spy quickly: only a high growth is remarkable.

Damn it. Had she been tracked down...

Wanda looks around, figuring out the ways of retreat - holy God, if only it's safe for people, what happened in Lagos was enough of her, enough, enough! - when the guess literally pierces her from head to foot. It's like a spear - from the vertex through the solar plexus and the womb passes accurately and through. She freezes, pinned by this guess to the floor, all her nerve endings are agonizing. It feels like electrical discharges are rolling around her body.

She is pushed in the back. In the end, she starts to hurry and does not break too graciously through the crowd.

She opens her eyes in disbelief.

"Vis?"  
"Hey," he smiles in confusion, showing strong white teeth.  
"Unexpectedly," Wanda says.

And devours him with a look. How long they have not seen, she can go crazy.  
"I thought that in the usual way I would attract too much attention. What do you say?"  
Wanda smiles.  
"Ideally."

He is so tall that she has to get up on her toes and pull him by the collar of his cloak to whisper in his ear:  
"I like red."

He passes the strands of her hair between his fingers: each time its copper-red tint goes deeper.  
"I see."

Wanda throws back her head. They are embarrassed, they meet their lips hurriedly: it's like a quick brushstroke on a new canvas, not a kiss, there are too many people here.  
"Come," she whispers.

This is their first time - the first escape.

***  
The morning wades delicately, but insistently: she can not escape under the blanket or to hide behind the curtains. Wanda listens to the city: it is quiet and sleepy, seems it yawns with the awakening residents. Sunday. There's nowhere to hurry. That's why Ljubljana: silence in the center of Europe.

They rented a tiny apartment in the old town, the cheapest one, in a converted attic, but with a view of the castle, to which one they just have to walk. There's a beautiful road up the mountain through the forest, a light, ferny overgrown on both sides, there were wonderful photos in the guide...

Wanda blisses. It's funny, her own body seems as new as Vision's.

He knocks before he enters, as if he did not see her naked, puts the tray on the bedside table.  
"Good morning."

Wanda likes to see him like this: barefoot, in training pants and a T-shirt. She likes the look he chose: although did she not see those relief cheekbones before, a thin straight nose, an ideal mouth, a lean and flexible body? That's what about it's said: aristocratic beauty. Altron tried for himself, and got all this treasure to a girl from poor Sokovia. Quite fair. The girl always dreamed of getting rich...

Wanda sits down on the bed. The lace of the nightgown falls from her shoulder ("Beautiful underwear is never superfluous!" Natasha directed), Vision picks it up, returns to the place - a gesture simultaneously innocent and reverent. Wanda smiles. She likes this combination. She like his attempts to make something pleasant for her, even if it's a simple breakfast. Wanda does not like coffee and Vision's performance is generally terrible - just as sex with him is beautiful: from the first instinctive exchange of energy...

"Everything is bad?"  
"Wretched," Wanda nods, blissfully. "But the toasts smell well."  
And digs into one with his teeth.

"Sorry. Maybe tea?"  
"It will be just as horrible, Vis."  
"Oh."  
"Do not mind it."  
Vision looks at the mug.  
"I wanted to please you."

There is no logic in this, there is not even a reasonable explanation for the fusion of what is happening: their kisses are chaste, their sex is violent, tender and full of an aching novelty; a double bed leads Vision to embarrassment, and bad coffee is frustrating for him.

Wanda smiles. There is nothing better, nothing tastier than this disgustingly bitter coffee in her life.

"I don't care if you do not know how to cook."

She slaps the palm over the bed, inviting him to sit beside her. Holy God, this is a real family morning, they have a whole week - or even two, Rogers and Stark, you sons of bitches, be merciful! - of such a happiness.  
Inside, everything sweetly sweetly collapses with this thought.

Wanda puts aside the mug, launches her fingers in Vision's bang and flutters. He throws back his head, puts his lips in her hand, kisses, kisses, kisses all the time, while his fingers slide down his face...

"There's a restaurant across the street," he says in a defeat. "Fish is caught right in your presence and immediately fried..."  
"Have you tried it?"  
"I do not need food," he recalls. "Unlike you. By the way, if we are too lazy to go, we can climb to the castle by cable car."  
"Are you lazy?"  
"I do not know what laziness is."  
"And fatigue," Wanda finally cracks down with toasts. "Lucky for me! By the way, you're damn good. Our hostess noticed this, too."  
"Excuse me?"  
"She was staring at you so much that I burst with pride, thinking that she was too late..."  
"Did she?"

The question is utterly unsophisticated, and Wanda laughs. When was the last time she had such a good mood?  
Never. Even when Pietro was alive, she was a butterfly in a cocoon.

"I have a feeling now that I, like a wily witch, have deprived the innocent of the universal mind..."  
"He's artificial," Vision says seriously.  
"Then I'm twice on fire!" Wanda sprinkles, gets out of bed.

She likes the way Vision looks at her legs.

They have a week. Or even two.

Life is delightful.


End file.
